Happy Memorial Day to all U.S. readers. And happy weekend to the rest of you!
I'd promised another snip from Carny's Magic, and here it is. This scene takes place after Carny and Peter have grown close and life at "Casa Spey" starts getting seriously, disturbingly weird. (The GIVEAWAY for this novel ends Monday, May 28, at 7 p.m. CDT.)
* * *
I see no
light through the small window beside Peter’s door, so I don’t knock. He could
be asleep. Instead I go into stealth mode and let myself inside. Peter has left
his door unlocked since we started seeing each other.
Immediately
I know he’s here. His scent is stronger when he’s here, and I also pick up the
sound of his soft, even breathing. Within seconds my eyes adjust to the gloom.
Filtered
white moonlight clings to the body on the bed, or at least portions of it:
Peter’s face, pale as a wafer, turned into the pillow; his arms, resting limply
on his torso; one bent leg and the smudge of his canted foot. A dark-colored
sheet obscures the rest.
He moves his
head but doesn’t awaken. Even though silver minnows swim through his hair.
I want to
tuck in his arms and that lone, out-flung leg, pull the sheet taut around him
to make a protective bunting. Right now I could swear he’s a will-o’-the-wisp,
seeping through the seams of night. The image frightens me. I want to make him
solid again and anchor him to my world.
What am I
going to do?
Pad over to
his bed, for starters. Sink down beside it. Take one of his hands in both of
mine and rest my forehead on this small bundle of us.
“Carny? Is
that you?” He sounds groggy, wrung out. And very vulnerable.
“Yes.”
“I’m so glad
you came. I’m really sorry. It hurts, feeling this sorry.”
My throat
begins to clog. “I know.” I kiss his hand.
“Don’t give
up on me.”
My mouth
forms the words I won’t.
No comments:
Post a Comment